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Her quiet countenance upon the subject of her ruined home and the potential for there to have been witnesses to the fire was lost the moment she heard hooves approaching. Her first instinct was to find shelter. To hide her face from sight and to keep herself above suspicion. But the lady also knew herself to be safe here. To be safe while standing before her own lord. Lord Alehandros was not likely to let anything else happen to her now. Especially not now that so much damage had been done to his province. Her province. Her home. The forest that she had lived and breathed for so many years. Some in bliss and some in self-exile.
Her father, if he could see her now, was likely incredibly disappointed at the direction their agreed support for the queen had turned.
Turning her head to peer down the road, Iris recognized two of the individuals approaching her home well and Iris immediately had to swallow all emotion. It would be all too easy to spill her feelings to her family, and Cicero was far too good at discerning even her own thoughts. Sometimes it felt like an intrusion, but if Iris could trust anyone else here, she thought that it might be her cousin's husband. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. He had never once used her thoughts or words against her in any way that would ruin her reputation. Where Cicero and Elysia were concerned, there was trust and faith in them both.
And complete relief.
What emotion she didn't show was entirely replaced by that profoundly intense feeling of utter relief that they were here. That someone was here that likely already knew how she felt and understood. Cicero approached first and Iris lifted her chin in very slight greeting. "Today is not a good day," Iris confirmed very quietly, "But my company found safety, thank the gods. I never imagined that such a thing would befall my forest while I hosted a hunting party," Iris said delicately, her smile growing weak. "There is little to hunt now," and her voice dropped as well.
There was little to salvage. All that could be done was to uproot the dead trees and start anew. Fire always burned away to ash, but it brought more life in the end.
But it was Elysia's embrace that had her finally closing her eyes. She whispered only a single word to her cousin. A very soft, "Please," before she dropped her head against Elysia's shoulder and started to weep quietly. It was not something she wanted to do here, but she could not avoid it now. All the anger and grief bubbled to the surface and Iris had to swallow, no longer focused on Lord Alehandros, Hector, or Cicero. Even the guard was entirely off her radar. Honestly, she wished she could disappear. She wished that this wasn't her new reality.
What of her sister? What was Dianthe, of whom Iris had not confided to Elysia about yet, to find when Iris finally approached her? She would not do so until it was safe, but her mind settled on the idea that she had nothing left in this place to give her own blood. No memories to share where Dianthe had none. It was a tricky set of thoughts that she had stumbled over and Iris decided not to engage either Cicero or Lord Alehandros further, putting all of her focus on Elysia instead.
At least there was comfort here.
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Her quiet countenance upon the subject of her ruined home and the potential for there to have been witnesses to the fire was lost the moment she heard hooves approaching. Her first instinct was to find shelter. To hide her face from sight and to keep herself above suspicion. But the lady also knew herself to be safe here. To be safe while standing before her own lord. Lord Alehandros was not likely to let anything else happen to her now. Especially not now that so much damage had been done to his province. Her province. Her home. The forest that she had lived and breathed for so many years. Some in bliss and some in self-exile.
Her father, if he could see her now, was likely incredibly disappointed at the direction their agreed support for the queen had turned.
Turning her head to peer down the road, Iris recognized two of the individuals approaching her home well and Iris immediately had to swallow all emotion. It would be all too easy to spill her feelings to her family, and Cicero was far too good at discerning even her own thoughts. Sometimes it felt like an intrusion, but if Iris could trust anyone else here, she thought that it might be her cousin's husband. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. He had never once used her thoughts or words against her in any way that would ruin her reputation. Where Cicero and Elysia were concerned, there was trust and faith in them both.
And complete relief.
What emotion she didn't show was entirely replaced by that profoundly intense feeling of utter relief that they were here. That someone was here that likely already knew how she felt and understood. Cicero approached first and Iris lifted her chin in very slight greeting. "Today is not a good day," Iris confirmed very quietly, "But my company found safety, thank the gods. I never imagined that such a thing would befall my forest while I hosted a hunting party," Iris said delicately, her smile growing weak. "There is little to hunt now," and her voice dropped as well.
There was little to salvage. All that could be done was to uproot the dead trees and start anew. Fire always burned away to ash, but it brought more life in the end.
But it was Elysia's embrace that had her finally closing her eyes. She whispered only a single word to her cousin. A very soft, "Please," before she dropped her head against Elysia's shoulder and started to weep quietly. It was not something she wanted to do here, but she could not avoid it now. All the anger and grief bubbled to the surface and Iris had to swallow, no longer focused on Lord Alehandros, Hector, or Cicero. Even the guard was entirely off her radar. Honestly, she wished she could disappear. She wished that this wasn't her new reality.
What of her sister? What was Dianthe, of whom Iris had not confided to Elysia about yet, to find when Iris finally approached her? She would not do so until it was safe, but her mind settled on the idea that she had nothing left in this place to give her own blood. No memories to share where Dianthe had none. It was a tricky set of thoughts that she had stumbled over and Iris decided not to engage either Cicero or Lord Alehandros further, putting all of her focus on Elysia instead.
At least there was comfort here.
Her quiet countenance upon the subject of her ruined home and the potential for there to have been witnesses to the fire was lost the moment she heard hooves approaching. Her first instinct was to find shelter. To hide her face from sight and to keep herself above suspicion. But the lady also knew herself to be safe here. To be safe while standing before her own lord. Lord Alehandros was not likely to let anything else happen to her now. Especially not now that so much damage had been done to his province. Her province. Her home. The forest that she had lived and breathed for so many years. Some in bliss and some in self-exile.
Her father, if he could see her now, was likely incredibly disappointed at the direction their agreed support for the queen had turned.
Turning her head to peer down the road, Iris recognized two of the individuals approaching her home well and Iris immediately had to swallow all emotion. It would be all too easy to spill her feelings to her family, and Cicero was far too good at discerning even her own thoughts. Sometimes it felt like an intrusion, but if Iris could trust anyone else here, she thought that it might be her cousin's husband. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. He had never once used her thoughts or words against her in any way that would ruin her reputation. Where Cicero and Elysia were concerned, there was trust and faith in them both.
And complete relief.
What emotion she didn't show was entirely replaced by that profoundly intense feeling of utter relief that they were here. That someone was here that likely already knew how she felt and understood. Cicero approached first and Iris lifted her chin in very slight greeting. "Today is not a good day," Iris confirmed very quietly, "But my company found safety, thank the gods. I never imagined that such a thing would befall my forest while I hosted a hunting party," Iris said delicately, her smile growing weak. "There is little to hunt now," and her voice dropped as well.
There was little to salvage. All that could be done was to uproot the dead trees and start anew. Fire always burned away to ash, but it brought more life in the end.
But it was Elysia's embrace that had her finally closing her eyes. She whispered only a single word to her cousin. A very soft, "Please," before she dropped her head against Elysia's shoulder and started to weep quietly. It was not something she wanted to do here, but she could not avoid it now. All the anger and grief bubbled to the surface and Iris had to swallow, no longer focused on Lord Alehandros, Hector, or Cicero. Even the guard was entirely off her radar. Honestly, she wished she could disappear. She wished that this wasn't her new reality.
What of her sister? What was Dianthe, of whom Iris had not confided to Elysia about yet, to find when Iris finally approached her? She would not do so until it was safe, but her mind settled on the idea that she had nothing left in this place to give her own blood. No memories to share where Dianthe had none. It was a tricky set of thoughts that she had stumbled over and Iris decided not to engage either Cicero or Lord Alehandros further, putting all of her focus on Elysia instead.
At least there was comfort here.
Of the people Alehandros expected to see her it was not Lady Iris alone without her husband in sight, nor was it Elysia, despite knowing both their connections to Aetaea. Oh, he had no doubt the would come here eventually but not so soon after the fire when it was not yet time for emotions and work needed to be done. And Alehandros damn well didn’t expect Captain Hector of Arcana stepping foot on his burned lands. The person, the only person, that did not surprise the Lord was Master Cicero. For him to arrive so quickly was only further proof that he was a man who did his job well.
Much better than apparently Alehandros himself, seeing as his words hinted to the people that were hiding in his province. By gods, at this point was there anyone who didn’t know… aside from the Antonis themselves. The Antonis were not political people. A much more military-minded house than the other royals in Athenia, it didn’t surprise Alehandros that some things were not caught by the Lord. But he wasn’t inept. And yet for his barons to keep the secret from him, only for the master of secrets, his wife, and a fucking captain to know he may as well have been deaf and blind. Let alone the people who lit his forest aflame…
It was one ridiculous situation after another. There were two crying girls now, a commoner, and Cicero. Only one of these people Alehandros currently had patience for. He pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing the Lordly mask to slip and show his obvious annoyance.
“I ask of you, Master Cicero, if you can help me search for any evidence of… foul play.” Which it clearly was, but words alone did not make for a solid case. His eyes shifted to Hector, and his tone changed to have a slight bitterness to it, “And you too, Captain. As I am clearly… not privy to everything that has been going on.”
Alehandros was a cool, calm, and polite man. Typically… under normal circumstances. This wasn’t normal circumstances and while he can understand the need for secrecy, their secrets led them to this. So they would have to excuse his curtness.
“And Lady Iris, I realize your emotions are running high right now. And there will be plenty of time for that. But for now, can you remember any more specifics of the night? For instance, from which direction did the fire start- wait a minute.” Iris’s words finally filtered through his mind. “Lord Kiekelius did you say?”
There were three possibilities here. The first was that the company forgot that Lord Keikelius was a Stravos. That wasn’t too likely. For a whole group to forget would be just silly. The second was that Lord Keikelius decided his family just wasn’t worth it. To which Alehandros would question… why? Why would Keikelius decide to just turn his back on his family… and why would the company trust that is what he actually did? Even if he suddenly hated his son, wife, and daughters and everything they stood for… what did they have to base on that? His word?
The last, and most likely possibility, was that Alehandros was cursed by Dionysus. He was mad. This was all a delusion inside his mind. Riots weren’t actually happening, his province wasn’t burned up, and the Xanthos did not suddenly get in bed with Lord Keikelius. His wife and daughters probably had him locked up somewhere as he raved in the corner about each and every bad thing that has been happening in Athenia. His uncle probably wasn’t dead. He was a lunatic.
But on the possibility that one of the first two solutions actually happened, Alehandros should play along with it. “Right..." He shook his head. “If it did come to bringing up war to a senate, and I’m not saying we’re at that point,” but… it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility anymore. “Two things need to happen. The first, we need evidence. War is not something you decide on a whim. War lacks any emotion. If you want to be on the right side, you need to convince the people that we are righteous. The second, we need hold senate. Let’s just work on the first right now.”
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Of the people Alehandros expected to see her it was not Lady Iris alone without her husband in sight, nor was it Elysia, despite knowing both their connections to Aetaea. Oh, he had no doubt the would come here eventually but not so soon after the fire when it was not yet time for emotions and work needed to be done. And Alehandros damn well didn’t expect Captain Hector of Arcana stepping foot on his burned lands. The person, the only person, that did not surprise the Lord was Master Cicero. For him to arrive so quickly was only further proof that he was a man who did his job well.
Much better than apparently Alehandros himself, seeing as his words hinted to the people that were hiding in his province. By gods, at this point was there anyone who didn’t know… aside from the Antonis themselves. The Antonis were not political people. A much more military-minded house than the other royals in Athenia, it didn’t surprise Alehandros that some things were not caught by the Lord. But he wasn’t inept. And yet for his barons to keep the secret from him, only for the master of secrets, his wife, and a fucking captain to know he may as well have been deaf and blind. Let alone the people who lit his forest aflame…
It was one ridiculous situation after another. There were two crying girls now, a commoner, and Cicero. Only one of these people Alehandros currently had patience for. He pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing the Lordly mask to slip and show his obvious annoyance.
“I ask of you, Master Cicero, if you can help me search for any evidence of… foul play.” Which it clearly was, but words alone did not make for a solid case. His eyes shifted to Hector, and his tone changed to have a slight bitterness to it, “And you too, Captain. As I am clearly… not privy to everything that has been going on.”
Alehandros was a cool, calm, and polite man. Typically… under normal circumstances. This wasn’t normal circumstances and while he can understand the need for secrecy, their secrets led them to this. So they would have to excuse his curtness.
“And Lady Iris, I realize your emotions are running high right now. And there will be plenty of time for that. But for now, can you remember any more specifics of the night? For instance, from which direction did the fire start- wait a minute.” Iris’s words finally filtered through his mind. “Lord Kiekelius did you say?”
There were three possibilities here. The first was that the company forgot that Lord Keikelius was a Stravos. That wasn’t too likely. For a whole group to forget would be just silly. The second was that Lord Keikelius decided his family just wasn’t worth it. To which Alehandros would question… why? Why would Keikelius decide to just turn his back on his family… and why would the company trust that is what he actually did? Even if he suddenly hated his son, wife, and daughters and everything they stood for… what did they have to base on that? His word?
The last, and most likely possibility, was that Alehandros was cursed by Dionysus. He was mad. This was all a delusion inside his mind. Riots weren’t actually happening, his province wasn’t burned up, and the Xanthos did not suddenly get in bed with Lord Keikelius. His wife and daughters probably had him locked up somewhere as he raved in the corner about each and every bad thing that has been happening in Athenia. His uncle probably wasn’t dead. He was a lunatic.
But on the possibility that one of the first two solutions actually happened, Alehandros should play along with it. “Right..." He shook his head. “If it did come to bringing up war to a senate, and I’m not saying we’re at that point,” but… it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility anymore. “Two things need to happen. The first, we need evidence. War is not something you decide on a whim. War lacks any emotion. If you want to be on the right side, you need to convince the people that we are righteous. The second, we need hold senate. Let’s just work on the first right now.”
Of the people Alehandros expected to see her it was not Lady Iris alone without her husband in sight, nor was it Elysia, despite knowing both their connections to Aetaea. Oh, he had no doubt the would come here eventually but not so soon after the fire when it was not yet time for emotions and work needed to be done. And Alehandros damn well didn’t expect Captain Hector of Arcana stepping foot on his burned lands. The person, the only person, that did not surprise the Lord was Master Cicero. For him to arrive so quickly was only further proof that he was a man who did his job well.
Much better than apparently Alehandros himself, seeing as his words hinted to the people that were hiding in his province. By gods, at this point was there anyone who didn’t know… aside from the Antonis themselves. The Antonis were not political people. A much more military-minded house than the other royals in Athenia, it didn’t surprise Alehandros that some things were not caught by the Lord. But he wasn’t inept. And yet for his barons to keep the secret from him, only for the master of secrets, his wife, and a fucking captain to know he may as well have been deaf and blind. Let alone the people who lit his forest aflame…
It was one ridiculous situation after another. There were two crying girls now, a commoner, and Cicero. Only one of these people Alehandros currently had patience for. He pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing the Lordly mask to slip and show his obvious annoyance.
“I ask of you, Master Cicero, if you can help me search for any evidence of… foul play.” Which it clearly was, but words alone did not make for a solid case. His eyes shifted to Hector, and his tone changed to have a slight bitterness to it, “And you too, Captain. As I am clearly… not privy to everything that has been going on.”
Alehandros was a cool, calm, and polite man. Typically… under normal circumstances. This wasn’t normal circumstances and while he can understand the need for secrecy, their secrets led them to this. So they would have to excuse his curtness.
“And Lady Iris, I realize your emotions are running high right now. And there will be plenty of time for that. But for now, can you remember any more specifics of the night? For instance, from which direction did the fire start- wait a minute.” Iris’s words finally filtered through his mind. “Lord Kiekelius did you say?”
There were three possibilities here. The first was that the company forgot that Lord Keikelius was a Stravos. That wasn’t too likely. For a whole group to forget would be just silly. The second was that Lord Keikelius decided his family just wasn’t worth it. To which Alehandros would question… why? Why would Keikelius decide to just turn his back on his family… and why would the company trust that is what he actually did? Even if he suddenly hated his son, wife, and daughters and everything they stood for… what did they have to base on that? His word?
The last, and most likely possibility, was that Alehandros was cursed by Dionysus. He was mad. This was all a delusion inside his mind. Riots weren’t actually happening, his province wasn’t burned up, and the Xanthos did not suddenly get in bed with Lord Keikelius. His wife and daughters probably had him locked up somewhere as he raved in the corner about each and every bad thing that has been happening in Athenia. His uncle probably wasn’t dead. He was a lunatic.
But on the possibility that one of the first two solutions actually happened, Alehandros should play along with it. “Right..." He shook his head. “If it did come to bringing up war to a senate, and I’m not saying we’re at that point,” but… it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility anymore. “Two things need to happen. The first, we need evidence. War is not something you decide on a whim. War lacks any emotion. If you want to be on the right side, you need to convince the people that we are righteous. The second, we need hold senate. Let’s just work on the first right now.”
By the blessings of the gods above, Lord Alehandros caught on to what Hector wanted to say but could not. Being quite the simple man, he knew better than to openly state names and reveal the location of his Queen - particularly given that the young monarch was now hidden away under his own roof. No one would fault him such self-preservation.
Yet, once Lady Iris added additional clarification, the kind that seemed so blatant compared to his own unsuccessful attempts at subtlety, both of the men's gaze broke with one another to look at her. The corner of Hector's lip twitched as she spoke of the Queen, a flinch, followed by the quick flick of his eyes to Lord Alehandros before turning his attentions back to her.
As the Head of Antonis summoned parchment and stylus, Hector breathed a silent sigh, glad to see some form of progress. There was a lingering silence in the air as the man took to writing the missive and Lady Iris' thoughts clearly became more internal. Hector's own eyes glanced to the collection of horses and manservants that had gathered on the edge of the manor's rubble, the soft jingling of metal fixtures on the tack and the occasional nicker as a mount shook out its mane or stamped a hoof.
Those were the only sounds for some time, though. No birds sang and even the wind seemed hesitant to disturb the ashen graves of tree trunks and smoldering structures, leaving the lingering whisps of smoke to float upward in a direct line, like temple incense to the gods.
Hector's attention once again snapped to the Lord's, his hand curling around the sealed missive in acceptance.
The slightest flicker of an amused smile ghosted his lips and disappeared just as quickly at the mention of detours. Well, there would have to be at least one detour that stood between this missive and the Queen's hand, and she stood gazing out over her charred province, her composure beginning to crack.
Just as his lips parted to mention his orders to deliver Lady Iris safely to the Captial, his attention was immediately drawn to the rapid approach of horses, shoulders tensing slightly at the suddenness in the midst of stillness. It took a moment for the figures to become recognizable, and while he did not know his wife by name, he knew well of Master Cicero, Athenia's spymaster. Not that they had ever carried on a conversation.
He doubted they would today, either.
Dipping his head in silent greeting to the man who was clearly just as curious as Lord Alehandros was at a Xanthos captain being in an Antonis province, Hector watched the series of exchanges between the women and then Lady Iris and Master Cicero. Hector could not stop the silent reaction of surprise in his eyes as the Master Informer asked about Lady Iris' 'guests' and Hector wondered, Just how many people knew where the Queen had been??
Truly, he should not have been so surprised that the Master of Secrets knew that secret, and his expression smoothed just as quickly as it had shifted. Without anything to say, his eyes slid to Lord Alehandros as the next steps were clearly laid out.
Hector was more than happy to bow and depart from the main party, particularly as more tears were falling than he had anticipated seeing that day. Crying women made him uncomfortable, likely from his many failed attempts at rectifying tears among his daughters over the years. It was a lost cause to try to understand the causes and effects of such emotionality, he supposed, though something deep within him that spent so many years as a caretaker urged him to want to try, despite it being the wrong time, place, and company.
The grass turned to pale grey dust beneath his feet, wisping as if he stepped atop the clouds like Hermes as he walked. Making towards the treeline, he was aware of the Master Informer's presence behind him, glancing over his shoulder just once to see if the man would strike out on his own elsewhere or head in the same general direction.
Making his way into the blackened treeline, it was remarkable what once must have been comforting brown, gold, and green now made it feel like night, even without a canopy of leaves overhead. The ash was so thick in the ground it reminded him of trudging through the rare snow that would fall during only the coldest of winters, yet the lingering heat of the trees threatened to dampen the edges of the chiton at his shoulders.
Hector's footsteps froze at a sound, his brows furrowing as he tried to listen for it again. Was that...a whimper? He waited again in the silence there, his hand holding up to halt the steps so he could hear better, then his head turned to a small rocky outcrop down a ridge that formed a natural gully. Gingerly picking his steps as he drew in closer, Hector called out softly, "Is someone there?"
The soft, whimpering cries were stifled a moment in a quiet gasp, as if trying to silence and quiet themselves as he stepped closer. Slowly, Hector peered around the outcrop to find a young boy, no more than eight or nine years of age, looking up at him. Soot and ash covered and camouflaged the boy, apart from the whites of his eyes and the streaks of skin that could be seen where his tears had fallen.
Instinct took hold as Hector lowered himself to crouching not too far from the boy, a quiet shushing coming from his lips as he showed the boy his hands as he meant no harm.
"It's alright," Hector started, his voice calm and quiet as he reached a hand out, his fingers beckoning in an encouraging gesture for the boy to come out. It took Hector offering his name and a few quiet reassurances for the boy to finally unfurl a bit and accept his help.
Then, as young children were aught to do, he burst into a tearful flurry of words, drivel from his nose and tears blending into one, with a few smoke-induced coughs peppering his words. It took a bit for Hector to follow the flow of his words, occasionally trying to shush and calm the terrified child enough to pick out the most important words.
From what Hector could gather, the boy or his family were goatherds, and he would cut through the woods to take them from the pens to the pastures, letting them graze on the properties. When the fires started, he was cut off from home and made it to the high points of the hill.
Hector was certain that the terror combined with sleeping in the elements and likely hunger that had the boy's erratic words scrambled, particularly when he confessed that now all of the goats he was with ran away and he could not find them. Another deluge of tears began and the boy instinctively came in closer to Hector and began sobbing into his shoulder. The Captain sighed and his fatherly instinct had him making continued soothing motions as he glanced up at the Master Informer, a quick reminder of their real purpose here.
"Have you seen anyone else in the woods?"
"N-n-no...wai-wait....yes..." he said, straightening and sniffling as he wiped his eyes and took a few sniffling breaths. The boys brows furrowed and he nodded, "Not t-t-today..just you...b-but, I s-saw y-y-yellow....and black....the horses scared the goats...they w-went running everywh-where..."
Hector's eyes shot up to Master Cicero as the boy explained, hoping that the man could piece together the information better than Hector could. Yellow and Black? Hector knew there were many shared colors among the nobility of Athenia, but he expected the other man to know better.
"We'll find your goats and get you home. Come. You need water, maybe a bite?" Hector said, encouragingly, his face friendly but his tone clearly telling the boy what he needed. And also careful not to promise that they would find his goats intact, knowing they likely perished in the blaze. Still, the message was clear enough, as the boy nodded his head while Hector moved to stand, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him up the little gully once more to the main path, brows raised towards Master Cicero.
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By the blessings of the gods above, Lord Alehandros caught on to what Hector wanted to say but could not. Being quite the simple man, he knew better than to openly state names and reveal the location of his Queen - particularly given that the young monarch was now hidden away under his own roof. No one would fault him such self-preservation.
Yet, once Lady Iris added additional clarification, the kind that seemed so blatant compared to his own unsuccessful attempts at subtlety, both of the men's gaze broke with one another to look at her. The corner of Hector's lip twitched as she spoke of the Queen, a flinch, followed by the quick flick of his eyes to Lord Alehandros before turning his attentions back to her.
As the Head of Antonis summoned parchment and stylus, Hector breathed a silent sigh, glad to see some form of progress. There was a lingering silence in the air as the man took to writing the missive and Lady Iris' thoughts clearly became more internal. Hector's own eyes glanced to the collection of horses and manservants that had gathered on the edge of the manor's rubble, the soft jingling of metal fixtures on the tack and the occasional nicker as a mount shook out its mane or stamped a hoof.
Those were the only sounds for some time, though. No birds sang and even the wind seemed hesitant to disturb the ashen graves of tree trunks and smoldering structures, leaving the lingering whisps of smoke to float upward in a direct line, like temple incense to the gods.
Hector's attention once again snapped to the Lord's, his hand curling around the sealed missive in acceptance.
The slightest flicker of an amused smile ghosted his lips and disappeared just as quickly at the mention of detours. Well, there would have to be at least one detour that stood between this missive and the Queen's hand, and she stood gazing out over her charred province, her composure beginning to crack.
Just as his lips parted to mention his orders to deliver Lady Iris safely to the Captial, his attention was immediately drawn to the rapid approach of horses, shoulders tensing slightly at the suddenness in the midst of stillness. It took a moment for the figures to become recognizable, and while he did not know his wife by name, he knew well of Master Cicero, Athenia's spymaster. Not that they had ever carried on a conversation.
He doubted they would today, either.
Dipping his head in silent greeting to the man who was clearly just as curious as Lord Alehandros was at a Xanthos captain being in an Antonis province, Hector watched the series of exchanges between the women and then Lady Iris and Master Cicero. Hector could not stop the silent reaction of surprise in his eyes as the Master Informer asked about Lady Iris' 'guests' and Hector wondered, Just how many people knew where the Queen had been??
Truly, he should not have been so surprised that the Master of Secrets knew that secret, and his expression smoothed just as quickly as it had shifted. Without anything to say, his eyes slid to Lord Alehandros as the next steps were clearly laid out.
Hector was more than happy to bow and depart from the main party, particularly as more tears were falling than he had anticipated seeing that day. Crying women made him uncomfortable, likely from his many failed attempts at rectifying tears among his daughters over the years. It was a lost cause to try to understand the causes and effects of such emotionality, he supposed, though something deep within him that spent so many years as a caretaker urged him to want to try, despite it being the wrong time, place, and company.
The grass turned to pale grey dust beneath his feet, wisping as if he stepped atop the clouds like Hermes as he walked. Making towards the treeline, he was aware of the Master Informer's presence behind him, glancing over his shoulder just once to see if the man would strike out on his own elsewhere or head in the same general direction.
Making his way into the blackened treeline, it was remarkable what once must have been comforting brown, gold, and green now made it feel like night, even without a canopy of leaves overhead. The ash was so thick in the ground it reminded him of trudging through the rare snow that would fall during only the coldest of winters, yet the lingering heat of the trees threatened to dampen the edges of the chiton at his shoulders.
Hector's footsteps froze at a sound, his brows furrowing as he tried to listen for it again. Was that...a whimper? He waited again in the silence there, his hand holding up to halt the steps so he could hear better, then his head turned to a small rocky outcrop down a ridge that formed a natural gully. Gingerly picking his steps as he drew in closer, Hector called out softly, "Is someone there?"
The soft, whimpering cries were stifled a moment in a quiet gasp, as if trying to silence and quiet themselves as he stepped closer. Slowly, Hector peered around the outcrop to find a young boy, no more than eight or nine years of age, looking up at him. Soot and ash covered and camouflaged the boy, apart from the whites of his eyes and the streaks of skin that could be seen where his tears had fallen.
Instinct took hold as Hector lowered himself to crouching not too far from the boy, a quiet shushing coming from his lips as he showed the boy his hands as he meant no harm.
"It's alright," Hector started, his voice calm and quiet as he reached a hand out, his fingers beckoning in an encouraging gesture for the boy to come out. It took Hector offering his name and a few quiet reassurances for the boy to finally unfurl a bit and accept his help.
Then, as young children were aught to do, he burst into a tearful flurry of words, drivel from his nose and tears blending into one, with a few smoke-induced coughs peppering his words. It took a bit for Hector to follow the flow of his words, occasionally trying to shush and calm the terrified child enough to pick out the most important words.
From what Hector could gather, the boy or his family were goatherds, and he would cut through the woods to take them from the pens to the pastures, letting them graze on the properties. When the fires started, he was cut off from home and made it to the high points of the hill.
Hector was certain that the terror combined with sleeping in the elements and likely hunger that had the boy's erratic words scrambled, particularly when he confessed that now all of the goats he was with ran away and he could not find them. Another deluge of tears began and the boy instinctively came in closer to Hector and began sobbing into his shoulder. The Captain sighed and his fatherly instinct had him making continued soothing motions as he glanced up at the Master Informer, a quick reminder of their real purpose here.
"Have you seen anyone else in the woods?"
"N-n-no...wai-wait....yes..." he said, straightening and sniffling as he wiped his eyes and took a few sniffling breaths. The boys brows furrowed and he nodded, "Not t-t-today..just you...b-but, I s-saw y-y-yellow....and black....the horses scared the goats...they w-went running everywh-where..."
Hector's eyes shot up to Master Cicero as the boy explained, hoping that the man could piece together the information better than Hector could. Yellow and Black? Hector knew there were many shared colors among the nobility of Athenia, but he expected the other man to know better.
"We'll find your goats and get you home. Come. You need water, maybe a bite?" Hector said, encouragingly, his face friendly but his tone clearly telling the boy what he needed. And also careful not to promise that they would find his goats intact, knowing they likely perished in the blaze. Still, the message was clear enough, as the boy nodded his head while Hector moved to stand, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him up the little gully once more to the main path, brows raised towards Master Cicero.
By the blessings of the gods above, Lord Alehandros caught on to what Hector wanted to say but could not. Being quite the simple man, he knew better than to openly state names and reveal the location of his Queen - particularly given that the young monarch was now hidden away under his own roof. No one would fault him such self-preservation.
Yet, once Lady Iris added additional clarification, the kind that seemed so blatant compared to his own unsuccessful attempts at subtlety, both of the men's gaze broke with one another to look at her. The corner of Hector's lip twitched as she spoke of the Queen, a flinch, followed by the quick flick of his eyes to Lord Alehandros before turning his attentions back to her.
As the Head of Antonis summoned parchment and stylus, Hector breathed a silent sigh, glad to see some form of progress. There was a lingering silence in the air as the man took to writing the missive and Lady Iris' thoughts clearly became more internal. Hector's own eyes glanced to the collection of horses and manservants that had gathered on the edge of the manor's rubble, the soft jingling of metal fixtures on the tack and the occasional nicker as a mount shook out its mane or stamped a hoof.
Those were the only sounds for some time, though. No birds sang and even the wind seemed hesitant to disturb the ashen graves of tree trunks and smoldering structures, leaving the lingering whisps of smoke to float upward in a direct line, like temple incense to the gods.
Hector's attention once again snapped to the Lord's, his hand curling around the sealed missive in acceptance.
The slightest flicker of an amused smile ghosted his lips and disappeared just as quickly at the mention of detours. Well, there would have to be at least one detour that stood between this missive and the Queen's hand, and she stood gazing out over her charred province, her composure beginning to crack.
Just as his lips parted to mention his orders to deliver Lady Iris safely to the Captial, his attention was immediately drawn to the rapid approach of horses, shoulders tensing slightly at the suddenness in the midst of stillness. It took a moment for the figures to become recognizable, and while he did not know his wife by name, he knew well of Master Cicero, Athenia's spymaster. Not that they had ever carried on a conversation.
He doubted they would today, either.
Dipping his head in silent greeting to the man who was clearly just as curious as Lord Alehandros was at a Xanthos captain being in an Antonis province, Hector watched the series of exchanges between the women and then Lady Iris and Master Cicero. Hector could not stop the silent reaction of surprise in his eyes as the Master Informer asked about Lady Iris' 'guests' and Hector wondered, Just how many people knew where the Queen had been??
Truly, he should not have been so surprised that the Master of Secrets knew that secret, and his expression smoothed just as quickly as it had shifted. Without anything to say, his eyes slid to Lord Alehandros as the next steps were clearly laid out.
Hector was more than happy to bow and depart from the main party, particularly as more tears were falling than he had anticipated seeing that day. Crying women made him uncomfortable, likely from his many failed attempts at rectifying tears among his daughters over the years. It was a lost cause to try to understand the causes and effects of such emotionality, he supposed, though something deep within him that spent so many years as a caretaker urged him to want to try, despite it being the wrong time, place, and company.
The grass turned to pale grey dust beneath his feet, wisping as if he stepped atop the clouds like Hermes as he walked. Making towards the treeline, he was aware of the Master Informer's presence behind him, glancing over his shoulder just once to see if the man would strike out on his own elsewhere or head in the same general direction.
Making his way into the blackened treeline, it was remarkable what once must have been comforting brown, gold, and green now made it feel like night, even without a canopy of leaves overhead. The ash was so thick in the ground it reminded him of trudging through the rare snow that would fall during only the coldest of winters, yet the lingering heat of the trees threatened to dampen the edges of the chiton at his shoulders.
Hector's footsteps froze at a sound, his brows furrowing as he tried to listen for it again. Was that...a whimper? He waited again in the silence there, his hand holding up to halt the steps so he could hear better, then his head turned to a small rocky outcrop down a ridge that formed a natural gully. Gingerly picking his steps as he drew in closer, Hector called out softly, "Is someone there?"
The soft, whimpering cries were stifled a moment in a quiet gasp, as if trying to silence and quiet themselves as he stepped closer. Slowly, Hector peered around the outcrop to find a young boy, no more than eight or nine years of age, looking up at him. Soot and ash covered and camouflaged the boy, apart from the whites of his eyes and the streaks of skin that could be seen where his tears had fallen.
Instinct took hold as Hector lowered himself to crouching not too far from the boy, a quiet shushing coming from his lips as he showed the boy his hands as he meant no harm.
"It's alright," Hector started, his voice calm and quiet as he reached a hand out, his fingers beckoning in an encouraging gesture for the boy to come out. It took Hector offering his name and a few quiet reassurances for the boy to finally unfurl a bit and accept his help.
Then, as young children were aught to do, he burst into a tearful flurry of words, drivel from his nose and tears blending into one, with a few smoke-induced coughs peppering his words. It took a bit for Hector to follow the flow of his words, occasionally trying to shush and calm the terrified child enough to pick out the most important words.
From what Hector could gather, the boy or his family were goatherds, and he would cut through the woods to take them from the pens to the pastures, letting them graze on the properties. When the fires started, he was cut off from home and made it to the high points of the hill.
Hector was certain that the terror combined with sleeping in the elements and likely hunger that had the boy's erratic words scrambled, particularly when he confessed that now all of the goats he was with ran away and he could not find them. Another deluge of tears began and the boy instinctively came in closer to Hector and began sobbing into his shoulder. The Captain sighed and his fatherly instinct had him making continued soothing motions as he glanced up at the Master Informer, a quick reminder of their real purpose here.
"Have you seen anyone else in the woods?"
"N-n-no...wai-wait....yes..." he said, straightening and sniffling as he wiped his eyes and took a few sniffling breaths. The boys brows furrowed and he nodded, "Not t-t-today..just you...b-but, I s-saw y-y-yellow....and black....the horses scared the goats...they w-went running everywh-where..."
Hector's eyes shot up to Master Cicero as the boy explained, hoping that the man could piece together the information better than Hector could. Yellow and Black? Hector knew there were many shared colors among the nobility of Athenia, but he expected the other man to know better.
"We'll find your goats and get you home. Come. You need water, maybe a bite?" Hector said, encouragingly, his face friendly but his tone clearly telling the boy what he needed. And also careful not to promise that they would find his goats intact, knowing they likely perished in the blaze. Still, the message was clear enough, as the boy nodded his head while Hector moved to stand, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him up the little gully once more to the main path, brows raised towards Master Cicero.
There was some small relief at hearing the assurances that the royal retinue was safe, though Cicero’s expression betrayed no such thing. He simply gave a small nod and when Elysia moved forward to embrace his cousin, the spymaster averted his gaze from the woman’s obvious upset. It was not that he could not see it was there, that would hardly take great observational skills, it was more than his interest did not lie in mopping up the emotional aftermath of such events, but in exploring the how and why.
Naturally then, the spymaster’s attention shifted to the men who had accompanied Lady Iris, and whilst he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the Captain, it was the Antonis Lord who Cicero focused on. He had never had any close dealings with Lord Alejhandros - that was often the way with those who played upon the right side of the law, the Master Informer’s time spent more paying attention to those who did not. But that did not mean he didn’t know as much about the more politically inclined of the Antonis brothers as he wished to.
The Lord was clearly frustrated and Cicero dipped his head at the man’s address, for that, after all, was his purpose here. “Certainly, my Lord” he replied, his gaze taking a wide sweep around the blackened and smouldering lands they stood in. Fire was an inconvenient friend in such situations, for it tended to consume any evidence in its flaming breaths but it also was not a subtle method, drew attention from its first moments. If they were lucky there would those who had noticed the fire in its infancy...noticed anything or anyone out of place…
His musings were interrupted by the mention of a name that drew his focus sharply back to the conversation at hand as he noted the fact that Lord Keikelius of Stravos had been present. How very odd. What motivation the Master of Trade could have to be all the way out here in an Antonis province? Curious. That little piece of information would bear further scrutiny, but later, when the ashes were cool and any chance of finding the evidence that the Lord Alehandros wanted was carried away by the wind.
“If you will excuse me then, my Lord. Let me do my work and we can reconvene later.” The Master Informer didn't bow again, just walked away from the gathering, began pacing the skeleton of the Arygris manor looking for anything that went against what would expect to find. If it were foul play as all of his instincts suggested then it would make sense for the flames to be set as close to the intended targets as feasible, to reduce the possibility of failure.
Of course, Cicero considered, as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves to flip over a piece of still smouldering timber, that was working on the assumption the fire-starters were anything other than morons, and that was in no way confirmed. They had failed in their intent after all. And if that were the case then his logic would not lead to answers. Such was the frustration of trying to get inside the thoughts of those with less brilliant minds than his own.
His scout around the perimeter of the manor house proved fruitless, and so it was Cicero found himself widening his inspection to the crisped grassland and the scorched bones of trees that bled as far as the eye could see. He could see the appeal and simplicity of setting a torch to acres of timber already dry after the heat of a blazing summer, but he curled his lip in distaste as he stepped over the corpses of those small creatures that had no chance of outrunning tongues of flame. A pity. The lands would take some time to recover. He stooped to lay a hand upon the charred bole of a tree, noted that it still held heat, which was interesting as those where they had entered the Arygris land had cooled suggesting the pattern the fire had spread. He had just removed his glove so he might test for the direction of the wind when the voice of the Arcana soldier had him pause and turn to face where the man searched.
‘Is someone there?’
Cicero naturally froze in place, his gaze sharpening on the huddle of rock that the Captain was picking his way toward, and when he saw the man bend and heard some faint response, his long strides were carrying the master informer in that direction too. A survivor? That was a gift worth having, and Cicero’s resolve to get some answers only flickered momentarily when he paused at the top of the gully and noted that their witness was a child. Ah well, needs must, and the truth could not wait for tears to stop.
Wrinkling his nose a little at the snot and grime coating the boy’s -was it a boy?- face, Cicero silently passed Hector at a linen square as the man appeared leading the child, and pushed a waterskin towards the child himself.
“Drink.” he instructed, followed almost as quickly by a “You are certain Black and Yellow, child?” For whilst the Captain was right in his observance that noble houses sometimes shared colour across their heraldry, there was only one such combination in Athenia that Cicero knew of. And he knew a lot. What made little sense is why anyone wearing Marikas livery would be out here, and Cicero’s thoughts cycled back to the morons conclusion he’d come to earlier. Someone deliberately trying to make it look like the House were to blame? Or someone just that stupid? For the sake of his faith in humanity, he almost wished it were the former, but now wasn't the time to draw such conclusions. First, the information must be gathered.
“Speak boy. The sooner you do the sooner we can have you ...home.” Assuming he still had a home. Cicero didn't hold out much hope for the goats.
The child wasn’t too certain of the tall man who had no smiles for him, and he huddled a little closer toward the one who had found him, his voice quiet. “ I….I….think so.” he managed after he had slaked his raw and sore throat with the water he’d been given. Cicero waved a hand dismissively, having no want to take the skin back now the boy had dribbled in it.
“And what were these people doing, in the black and yellow?” Mayhaps they had been passing and attempting to help slow the flames?
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There was some small relief at hearing the assurances that the royal retinue was safe, though Cicero’s expression betrayed no such thing. He simply gave a small nod and when Elysia moved forward to embrace his cousin, the spymaster averted his gaze from the woman’s obvious upset. It was not that he could not see it was there, that would hardly take great observational skills, it was more than his interest did not lie in mopping up the emotional aftermath of such events, but in exploring the how and why.
Naturally then, the spymaster’s attention shifted to the men who had accompanied Lady Iris, and whilst he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the Captain, it was the Antonis Lord who Cicero focused on. He had never had any close dealings with Lord Alejhandros - that was often the way with those who played upon the right side of the law, the Master Informer’s time spent more paying attention to those who did not. But that did not mean he didn’t know as much about the more politically inclined of the Antonis brothers as he wished to.
The Lord was clearly frustrated and Cicero dipped his head at the man’s address, for that, after all, was his purpose here. “Certainly, my Lord” he replied, his gaze taking a wide sweep around the blackened and smouldering lands they stood in. Fire was an inconvenient friend in such situations, for it tended to consume any evidence in its flaming breaths but it also was not a subtle method, drew attention from its first moments. If they were lucky there would those who had noticed the fire in its infancy...noticed anything or anyone out of place…
His musings were interrupted by the mention of a name that drew his focus sharply back to the conversation at hand as he noted the fact that Lord Keikelius of Stravos had been present. How very odd. What motivation the Master of Trade could have to be all the way out here in an Antonis province? Curious. That little piece of information would bear further scrutiny, but later, when the ashes were cool and any chance of finding the evidence that the Lord Alehandros wanted was carried away by the wind.
“If you will excuse me then, my Lord. Let me do my work and we can reconvene later.” The Master Informer didn't bow again, just walked away from the gathering, began pacing the skeleton of the Arygris manor looking for anything that went against what would expect to find. If it were foul play as all of his instincts suggested then it would make sense for the flames to be set as close to the intended targets as feasible, to reduce the possibility of failure.
Of course, Cicero considered, as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves to flip over a piece of still smouldering timber, that was working on the assumption the fire-starters were anything other than morons, and that was in no way confirmed. They had failed in their intent after all. And if that were the case then his logic would not lead to answers. Such was the frustration of trying to get inside the thoughts of those with less brilliant minds than his own.
His scout around the perimeter of the manor house proved fruitless, and so it was Cicero found himself widening his inspection to the crisped grassland and the scorched bones of trees that bled as far as the eye could see. He could see the appeal and simplicity of setting a torch to acres of timber already dry after the heat of a blazing summer, but he curled his lip in distaste as he stepped over the corpses of those small creatures that had no chance of outrunning tongues of flame. A pity. The lands would take some time to recover. He stooped to lay a hand upon the charred bole of a tree, noted that it still held heat, which was interesting as those where they had entered the Arygris land had cooled suggesting the pattern the fire had spread. He had just removed his glove so he might test for the direction of the wind when the voice of the Arcana soldier had him pause and turn to face where the man searched.
‘Is someone there?’
Cicero naturally froze in place, his gaze sharpening on the huddle of rock that the Captain was picking his way toward, and when he saw the man bend and heard some faint response, his long strides were carrying the master informer in that direction too. A survivor? That was a gift worth having, and Cicero’s resolve to get some answers only flickered momentarily when he paused at the top of the gully and noted that their witness was a child. Ah well, needs must, and the truth could not wait for tears to stop.
Wrinkling his nose a little at the snot and grime coating the boy’s -was it a boy?- face, Cicero silently passed Hector at a linen square as the man appeared leading the child, and pushed a waterskin towards the child himself.
“Drink.” he instructed, followed almost as quickly by a “You are certain Black and Yellow, child?” For whilst the Captain was right in his observance that noble houses sometimes shared colour across their heraldry, there was only one such combination in Athenia that Cicero knew of. And he knew a lot. What made little sense is why anyone wearing Marikas livery would be out here, and Cicero’s thoughts cycled back to the morons conclusion he’d come to earlier. Someone deliberately trying to make it look like the House were to blame? Or someone just that stupid? For the sake of his faith in humanity, he almost wished it were the former, but now wasn't the time to draw such conclusions. First, the information must be gathered.
“Speak boy. The sooner you do the sooner we can have you ...home.” Assuming he still had a home. Cicero didn't hold out much hope for the goats.
The child wasn’t too certain of the tall man who had no smiles for him, and he huddled a little closer toward the one who had found him, his voice quiet. “ I….I….think so.” he managed after he had slaked his raw and sore throat with the water he’d been given. Cicero waved a hand dismissively, having no want to take the skin back now the boy had dribbled in it.
“And what were these people doing, in the black and yellow?” Mayhaps they had been passing and attempting to help slow the flames?
There was some small relief at hearing the assurances that the royal retinue was safe, though Cicero’s expression betrayed no such thing. He simply gave a small nod and when Elysia moved forward to embrace his cousin, the spymaster averted his gaze from the woman’s obvious upset. It was not that he could not see it was there, that would hardly take great observational skills, it was more than his interest did not lie in mopping up the emotional aftermath of such events, but in exploring the how and why.
Naturally then, the spymaster’s attention shifted to the men who had accompanied Lady Iris, and whilst he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the Captain, it was the Antonis Lord who Cicero focused on. He had never had any close dealings with Lord Alejhandros - that was often the way with those who played upon the right side of the law, the Master Informer’s time spent more paying attention to those who did not. But that did not mean he didn’t know as much about the more politically inclined of the Antonis brothers as he wished to.
The Lord was clearly frustrated and Cicero dipped his head at the man’s address, for that, after all, was his purpose here. “Certainly, my Lord” he replied, his gaze taking a wide sweep around the blackened and smouldering lands they stood in. Fire was an inconvenient friend in such situations, for it tended to consume any evidence in its flaming breaths but it also was not a subtle method, drew attention from its first moments. If they were lucky there would those who had noticed the fire in its infancy...noticed anything or anyone out of place…
His musings were interrupted by the mention of a name that drew his focus sharply back to the conversation at hand as he noted the fact that Lord Keikelius of Stravos had been present. How very odd. What motivation the Master of Trade could have to be all the way out here in an Antonis province? Curious. That little piece of information would bear further scrutiny, but later, when the ashes were cool and any chance of finding the evidence that the Lord Alehandros wanted was carried away by the wind.
“If you will excuse me then, my Lord. Let me do my work and we can reconvene later.” The Master Informer didn't bow again, just walked away from the gathering, began pacing the skeleton of the Arygris manor looking for anything that went against what would expect to find. If it were foul play as all of his instincts suggested then it would make sense for the flames to be set as close to the intended targets as feasible, to reduce the possibility of failure.
Of course, Cicero considered, as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves to flip over a piece of still smouldering timber, that was working on the assumption the fire-starters were anything other than morons, and that was in no way confirmed. They had failed in their intent after all. And if that were the case then his logic would not lead to answers. Such was the frustration of trying to get inside the thoughts of those with less brilliant minds than his own.
His scout around the perimeter of the manor house proved fruitless, and so it was Cicero found himself widening his inspection to the crisped grassland and the scorched bones of trees that bled as far as the eye could see. He could see the appeal and simplicity of setting a torch to acres of timber already dry after the heat of a blazing summer, but he curled his lip in distaste as he stepped over the corpses of those small creatures that had no chance of outrunning tongues of flame. A pity. The lands would take some time to recover. He stooped to lay a hand upon the charred bole of a tree, noted that it still held heat, which was interesting as those where they had entered the Arygris land had cooled suggesting the pattern the fire had spread. He had just removed his glove so he might test for the direction of the wind when the voice of the Arcana soldier had him pause and turn to face where the man searched.
‘Is someone there?’
Cicero naturally froze in place, his gaze sharpening on the huddle of rock that the Captain was picking his way toward, and when he saw the man bend and heard some faint response, his long strides were carrying the master informer in that direction too. A survivor? That was a gift worth having, and Cicero’s resolve to get some answers only flickered momentarily when he paused at the top of the gully and noted that their witness was a child. Ah well, needs must, and the truth could not wait for tears to stop.
Wrinkling his nose a little at the snot and grime coating the boy’s -was it a boy?- face, Cicero silently passed Hector at a linen square as the man appeared leading the child, and pushed a waterskin towards the child himself.
“Drink.” he instructed, followed almost as quickly by a “You are certain Black and Yellow, child?” For whilst the Captain was right in his observance that noble houses sometimes shared colour across their heraldry, there was only one such combination in Athenia that Cicero knew of. And he knew a lot. What made little sense is why anyone wearing Marikas livery would be out here, and Cicero’s thoughts cycled back to the morons conclusion he’d come to earlier. Someone deliberately trying to make it look like the House were to blame? Or someone just that stupid? For the sake of his faith in humanity, he almost wished it were the former, but now wasn't the time to draw such conclusions. First, the information must be gathered.
“Speak boy. The sooner you do the sooner we can have you ...home.” Assuming he still had a home. Cicero didn't hold out much hope for the goats.
The child wasn’t too certain of the tall man who had no smiles for him, and he huddled a little closer toward the one who had found him, his voice quiet. “ I….I….think so.” he managed after he had slaked his raw and sore throat with the water he’d been given. Cicero waved a hand dismissively, having no want to take the skin back now the boy had dribbled in it.
“And what were these people doing, in the black and yellow?” Mayhaps they had been passing and attempting to help slow the flames?
Elysia held onto Iris, her eyes drifting over her cousin’s shoulder. She felt utterly empty; afraid of many things that she was too cowardly to name. She’d never, not in her wildest dreams imagined...When Lord Alehandros spoke to Iris, Elysia sniffed and chose that moment to pull away. She clasped her hands at her front, dutifully looking down at her own sandals while the lord acknowledged emotions were running high. That was a bit of an understatement. Her eyes flitted to Cicero, then Hector, and back to Iris again. She wasn’t quite equal to looking at Iris for long, however and her eyes found her feet again. Unused to being unsure about anything, Elysia chose to let her tears fall freely. Rare was the man who openly stared at a woman crying and it wasn’t as though Cicero didn’t know. There was no hiding now.
The men were not with them long, departing to pick over Aetaea. Elysia waited until she and Iris were quite alone before speaking. “This is horrible,” she said as she looked around. The words were hardly necessary but they left her mouth nonetheless. “The queen is safe?” she checked, thinking that it must be so. She’d most certainly have heard if Persephone’s body had been found among the ruins. Taking her cousin by the hand, she pulled Iris towards the horses, wanting their voices not to carry.
“What started the fire? Lightning?” She hoped it was lightning. If it wasn’t, then it was purposefully set. The hunters in the region had good enough reasons not to be careless with their fires. More than that, this was coming on the heels of her conversation with Elias. The two had to be connected, but she didn’t want it to have been her that was mostly responsible for this madness. The thought was as discomforting as it was terrifying. If he had done this, then someone needed to poison the would-be-king.
Her eyes searched her cousin’s, looking for some sort of escape or assurance that it wasn’t her own tongue that had started this catastrophe. To Iris, who knew nothing of Elysia’s playing at spy, likely the earnestness of her expression would probably translate to extreme care. And while there was some of that, it was mostly a selfish need not to be the responsible one.
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Elysia held onto Iris, her eyes drifting over her cousin’s shoulder. She felt utterly empty; afraid of many things that she was too cowardly to name. She’d never, not in her wildest dreams imagined...When Lord Alehandros spoke to Iris, Elysia sniffed and chose that moment to pull away. She clasped her hands at her front, dutifully looking down at her own sandals while the lord acknowledged emotions were running high. That was a bit of an understatement. Her eyes flitted to Cicero, then Hector, and back to Iris again. She wasn’t quite equal to looking at Iris for long, however and her eyes found her feet again. Unused to being unsure about anything, Elysia chose to let her tears fall freely. Rare was the man who openly stared at a woman crying and it wasn’t as though Cicero didn’t know. There was no hiding now.
The men were not with them long, departing to pick over Aetaea. Elysia waited until she and Iris were quite alone before speaking. “This is horrible,” she said as she looked around. The words were hardly necessary but they left her mouth nonetheless. “The queen is safe?” she checked, thinking that it must be so. She’d most certainly have heard if Persephone’s body had been found among the ruins. Taking her cousin by the hand, she pulled Iris towards the horses, wanting their voices not to carry.
“What started the fire? Lightning?” She hoped it was lightning. If it wasn’t, then it was purposefully set. The hunters in the region had good enough reasons not to be careless with their fires. More than that, this was coming on the heels of her conversation with Elias. The two had to be connected, but she didn’t want it to have been her that was mostly responsible for this madness. The thought was as discomforting as it was terrifying. If he had done this, then someone needed to poison the would-be-king.
Her eyes searched her cousin’s, looking for some sort of escape or assurance that it wasn’t her own tongue that had started this catastrophe. To Iris, who knew nothing of Elysia’s playing at spy, likely the earnestness of her expression would probably translate to extreme care. And while there was some of that, it was mostly a selfish need not to be the responsible one.
Elysia held onto Iris, her eyes drifting over her cousin’s shoulder. She felt utterly empty; afraid of many things that she was too cowardly to name. She’d never, not in her wildest dreams imagined...When Lord Alehandros spoke to Iris, Elysia sniffed and chose that moment to pull away. She clasped her hands at her front, dutifully looking down at her own sandals while the lord acknowledged emotions were running high. That was a bit of an understatement. Her eyes flitted to Cicero, then Hector, and back to Iris again. She wasn’t quite equal to looking at Iris for long, however and her eyes found her feet again. Unused to being unsure about anything, Elysia chose to let her tears fall freely. Rare was the man who openly stared at a woman crying and it wasn’t as though Cicero didn’t know. There was no hiding now.
The men were not with them long, departing to pick over Aetaea. Elysia waited until she and Iris were quite alone before speaking. “This is horrible,” she said as she looked around. The words were hardly necessary but they left her mouth nonetheless. “The queen is safe?” she checked, thinking that it must be so. She’d most certainly have heard if Persephone’s body had been found among the ruins. Taking her cousin by the hand, she pulled Iris towards the horses, wanting their voices not to carry.
“What started the fire? Lightning?” She hoped it was lightning. If it wasn’t, then it was purposefully set. The hunters in the region had good enough reasons not to be careless with their fires. More than that, this was coming on the heels of her conversation with Elias. The two had to be connected, but she didn’t want it to have been her that was mostly responsible for this madness. The thought was as discomforting as it was terrifying. If he had done this, then someone needed to poison the would-be-king.
Her eyes searched her cousin’s, looking for some sort of escape or assurance that it wasn’t her own tongue that had started this catastrophe. To Iris, who knew nothing of Elysia’s playing at spy, likely the earnestness of her expression would probably translate to extreme care. And while there was some of that, it was mostly a selfish need not to be the responsible one.
Iris wasn't sure where her head was, but it wasn't entirely in this place anymore. Lord Alehandros asked her a question about Lord Keikelius and all that Iris had been able to do was stare at him as if she didn't want or need to repeat herself. Wasn't it easier not to say anything at all? Wasn't it easier not to repeat words she had already said before? It was a waste of time and that was one of the only things that the young baroness was thinking of. Time. Time. Time. Time.
There would not be much time to retaliate, and this was all that Iris was thinking of in the moment. Elysia's connection to her body and her hand were secondary, his mind drifting off into her own anger and her own frustration at the sight before her. It was quickly turning from absolute grief over the destruction of her years' worth of work to utter rage and the want for restitution in the face of such an insult. This was an insult. The greatest insult that Lord Elias could have bestowed upon her lands.
The love was gone, she was sure.
The one thing that she had feared to become true absolutely had. Lord Elias had taken his ambitions to a destructive extreme, which had been exactly why the young lady had put distance and then separation between the two of them. It had been so that she didn't cross him and earn his ire. But now he had earned hers and there was nothing worse than a woman bent on revenge and stewing over her own calculating, simmering anger.
Her cousin pulled her closer toward the horses and Iris finally focused on Elysia's face. Beautiful and cunning and forever the reasonable and convincing voice that Iris had always looked up to and needed at her back. For some reason, she struggled to answer the first of Elysia's questions, her tongue seemingly turning to lead in her mouth. Her green gaze flicked in the direction of the men who were now surveying the province for themselves. Iris took in a single breath but didn't give a verbal answer to that question. Elysia wouldn't need one. If Iris was here, then Elysia had her answer enough. That would be the end of it.
Her concern, for the moment, was not Persephone or the order given to her. It was the world around her. Iris' gaze trailed up the length of one of the charred trees of her home. The second question was much easier to put words to, and this time, when her voice drifted from her lips, it was resigned and waveringly, dangerously angry, with a enough grace behind it that all of the simmering emotion wouldn't be noticeable unless you really, truly knew Iris.
"Human hands," Iris said very slowly, "Human hands burned my forests," she added as a clarification that wasn't truly needed, picking her words carefully so that she didn't implode like a star in their night sky. "There were no clouds on the horizon. Zeus had no hand in this, Elysia."
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Iris wasn't sure where her head was, but it wasn't entirely in this place anymore. Lord Alehandros asked her a question about Lord Keikelius and all that Iris had been able to do was stare at him as if she didn't want or need to repeat herself. Wasn't it easier not to say anything at all? Wasn't it easier not to repeat words she had already said before? It was a waste of time and that was one of the only things that the young baroness was thinking of. Time. Time. Time. Time.
There would not be much time to retaliate, and this was all that Iris was thinking of in the moment. Elysia's connection to her body and her hand were secondary, his mind drifting off into her own anger and her own frustration at the sight before her. It was quickly turning from absolute grief over the destruction of her years' worth of work to utter rage and the want for restitution in the face of such an insult. This was an insult. The greatest insult that Lord Elias could have bestowed upon her lands.
The love was gone, she was sure.
The one thing that she had feared to become true absolutely had. Lord Elias had taken his ambitions to a destructive extreme, which had been exactly why the young lady had put distance and then separation between the two of them. It had been so that she didn't cross him and earn his ire. But now he had earned hers and there was nothing worse than a woman bent on revenge and stewing over her own calculating, simmering anger.
Her cousin pulled her closer toward the horses and Iris finally focused on Elysia's face. Beautiful and cunning and forever the reasonable and convincing voice that Iris had always looked up to and needed at her back. For some reason, she struggled to answer the first of Elysia's questions, her tongue seemingly turning to lead in her mouth. Her green gaze flicked in the direction of the men who were now surveying the province for themselves. Iris took in a single breath but didn't give a verbal answer to that question. Elysia wouldn't need one. If Iris was here, then Elysia had her answer enough. That would be the end of it.
Her concern, for the moment, was not Persephone or the order given to her. It was the world around her. Iris' gaze trailed up the length of one of the charred trees of her home. The second question was much easier to put words to, and this time, when her voice drifted from her lips, it was resigned and waveringly, dangerously angry, with a enough grace behind it that all of the simmering emotion wouldn't be noticeable unless you really, truly knew Iris.
"Human hands," Iris said very slowly, "Human hands burned my forests," she added as a clarification that wasn't truly needed, picking her words carefully so that she didn't implode like a star in their night sky. "There were no clouds on the horizon. Zeus had no hand in this, Elysia."
Iris wasn't sure where her head was, but it wasn't entirely in this place anymore. Lord Alehandros asked her a question about Lord Keikelius and all that Iris had been able to do was stare at him as if she didn't want or need to repeat herself. Wasn't it easier not to say anything at all? Wasn't it easier not to repeat words she had already said before? It was a waste of time and that was one of the only things that the young baroness was thinking of. Time. Time. Time. Time.
There would not be much time to retaliate, and this was all that Iris was thinking of in the moment. Elysia's connection to her body and her hand were secondary, his mind drifting off into her own anger and her own frustration at the sight before her. It was quickly turning from absolute grief over the destruction of her years' worth of work to utter rage and the want for restitution in the face of such an insult. This was an insult. The greatest insult that Lord Elias could have bestowed upon her lands.
The love was gone, she was sure.
The one thing that she had feared to become true absolutely had. Lord Elias had taken his ambitions to a destructive extreme, which had been exactly why the young lady had put distance and then separation between the two of them. It had been so that she didn't cross him and earn his ire. But now he had earned hers and there was nothing worse than a woman bent on revenge and stewing over her own calculating, simmering anger.
Her cousin pulled her closer toward the horses and Iris finally focused on Elysia's face. Beautiful and cunning and forever the reasonable and convincing voice that Iris had always looked up to and needed at her back. For some reason, she struggled to answer the first of Elysia's questions, her tongue seemingly turning to lead in her mouth. Her green gaze flicked in the direction of the men who were now surveying the province for themselves. Iris took in a single breath but didn't give a verbal answer to that question. Elysia wouldn't need one. If Iris was here, then Elysia had her answer enough. That would be the end of it.
Her concern, for the moment, was not Persephone or the order given to her. It was the world around her. Iris' gaze trailed up the length of one of the charred trees of her home. The second question was much easier to put words to, and this time, when her voice drifted from her lips, it was resigned and waveringly, dangerously angry, with a enough grace behind it that all of the simmering emotion wouldn't be noticeable unless you really, truly knew Iris.
"Human hands," Iris said very slowly, "Human hands burned my forests," she added as a clarification that wasn't truly needed, picking her words carefully so that she didn't implode like a star in their night sky. "There were no clouds on the horizon. Zeus had no hand in this, Elysia."
If you had gone to Alehandros earlier in the day and told him he would be wandering around a burned, ashy forest with two women mourning their loss, and two men not from his own province helping him with the investigation… well, he would have told you to get the hell out of his room and let him sleep. And yet, here he was, walking away from Iris and Elysia to cover the ground that Cicero and Hector were missing. He hoped in ten years time he’d be able to look back at the situation with, yes a heavy heart it is tragic but at least be able to laugh at the absurdity. Right now, however? His face was set and his eyes looked at all that was lost with stony seriousness.
His mind was a whirl trying to make sense and logic to the needless destruction. Trees could be replanted, and homes rebuilt, but the lives could never be regained. All because… the Queen was in hiding. There was an irony to be had with this. The throne could have been Alehandros had he so desired it to be, and yet he made it clear should it fall to his hands it would be turned away. The Queen she had the throne, the crown, and yet with her hiding… it was the Antonis trees that burned. He didn’t blame her, necessarily. She did get attacked the night of her father’s funeral. But… well, the gods had a really funny way to bring the Antonis back into Athenian politics.
Walking around the house Alehandros smelled something before he even saw it. The stench of… melted, charred flesh. Dark eyes landed on two corpses. One, a goat who looked so black that Alehandros was sure even the starving people of the capital would not be feasting on its meat. The other…an unrecognizable human. There was a separation between nobility and commoners, which was incredibly evident in Athenia, but Alehandros knew that despite the difference in stature, they bled and felt pain the same way. The man would have been in agony, as the fire engulfed his every being. There was no escape, the torturous flame as it destroyed the man’s very being.
How cowardly it was to burn the forest and all that was in it. There was no honor, only… cruelty. And it only did angered Alehandros more knowing those that brought the flame later went home to their beds and families, sleeping a peaceful night and caring not for all that they took from innocents.
They really pissed off the wrong man.
“May you cross the river with peace,” Alehandros murmured before returning his attention back to the investigation. Eventually his path led back to Master Cicero and Captain Hector, who now had a child among them.
And what were the people doing, in the black and yellow?
Alehandros had stopped. Did the child see people in black and yellow? There was… only one house he could think of that matched those colors. But, it didn’t make sense. First, to wear their own colors in an attack was… egotistical at the best, idioitic at worse. But the Marikas and Antonis had very strong ties between them, of friendship and of marriage. It came with being the the eldest royal family in Athenia. Alehandros had shown nothing but loyalty to them… so to hear men in their colors were here didn’t sit well at all with the Lord.
The child had looked at Master Cicero with large, fear filled eyes and whispered only three words. “They burned… e-everything.”
“Enough.” Alehandros said, now approaching the group. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, Iris had told him. The Queen was hiding here. Everything logically pointed to arson. But to hear from a child’s own mouth that it was human hands that brought devastation to Aetaea was something else entirely. It left a cold anger in the Lord and a determination that he had thus far avoided.
“The child’s parents should be found.” His voice was quiet. He only hoped it was not the corpse that Alehandros had just discovered. Eyes flickered from the poor child back to the two men. “I’ll be returning to the capital. It seems there is much work to be done.”
Eyes went back down to the child. Alehandros wished to give him some sort of… encouraging words. Reassurances. Hades, even the hug that the women also so desperately needed. But there were no words that could be had that would soothe the people’s wounds; only time could do that. Time… and justice, which was exactly what Alehandros intended to do. He tore his gaze once more from the child, and with a polite nod to both men turned on his heel and left, a storm of fury and grief.
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If you had gone to Alehandros earlier in the day and told him he would be wandering around a burned, ashy forest with two women mourning their loss, and two men not from his own province helping him with the investigation… well, he would have told you to get the hell out of his room and let him sleep. And yet, here he was, walking away from Iris and Elysia to cover the ground that Cicero and Hector were missing. He hoped in ten years time he’d be able to look back at the situation with, yes a heavy heart it is tragic but at least be able to laugh at the absurdity. Right now, however? His face was set and his eyes looked at all that was lost with stony seriousness.
His mind was a whirl trying to make sense and logic to the needless destruction. Trees could be replanted, and homes rebuilt, but the lives could never be regained. All because… the Queen was in hiding. There was an irony to be had with this. The throne could have been Alehandros had he so desired it to be, and yet he made it clear should it fall to his hands it would be turned away. The Queen she had the throne, the crown, and yet with her hiding… it was the Antonis trees that burned. He didn’t blame her, necessarily. She did get attacked the night of her father’s funeral. But… well, the gods had a really funny way to bring the Antonis back into Athenian politics.
Walking around the house Alehandros smelled something before he even saw it. The stench of… melted, charred flesh. Dark eyes landed on two corpses. One, a goat who looked so black that Alehandros was sure even the starving people of the capital would not be feasting on its meat. The other…an unrecognizable human. There was a separation between nobility and commoners, which was incredibly evident in Athenia, but Alehandros knew that despite the difference in stature, they bled and felt pain the same way. The man would have been in agony, as the fire engulfed his every being. There was no escape, the torturous flame as it destroyed the man’s very being.
How cowardly it was to burn the forest and all that was in it. There was no honor, only… cruelty. And it only did angered Alehandros more knowing those that brought the flame later went home to their beds and families, sleeping a peaceful night and caring not for all that they took from innocents.
They really pissed off the wrong man.
“May you cross the river with peace,” Alehandros murmured before returning his attention back to the investigation. Eventually his path led back to Master Cicero and Captain Hector, who now had a child among them.
And what were the people doing, in the black and yellow?
Alehandros had stopped. Did the child see people in black and yellow? There was… only one house he could think of that matched those colors. But, it didn’t make sense. First, to wear their own colors in an attack was… egotistical at the best, idioitic at worse. But the Marikas and Antonis had very strong ties between them, of friendship and of marriage. It came with being the the eldest royal family in Athenia. Alehandros had shown nothing but loyalty to them… so to hear men in their colors were here didn’t sit well at all with the Lord.
The child had looked at Master Cicero with large, fear filled eyes and whispered only three words. “They burned… e-everything.”
“Enough.” Alehandros said, now approaching the group. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, Iris had told him. The Queen was hiding here. Everything logically pointed to arson. But to hear from a child’s own mouth that it was human hands that brought devastation to Aetaea was something else entirely. It left a cold anger in the Lord and a determination that he had thus far avoided.
“The child’s parents should be found.” His voice was quiet. He only hoped it was not the corpse that Alehandros had just discovered. Eyes flickered from the poor child back to the two men. “I’ll be returning to the capital. It seems there is much work to be done.”
Eyes went back down to the child. Alehandros wished to give him some sort of… encouraging words. Reassurances. Hades, even the hug that the women also so desperately needed. But there were no words that could be had that would soothe the people’s wounds; only time could do that. Time… and justice, which was exactly what Alehandros intended to do. He tore his gaze once more from the child, and with a polite nod to both men turned on his heel and left, a storm of fury and grief.
If you had gone to Alehandros earlier in the day and told him he would be wandering around a burned, ashy forest with two women mourning their loss, and two men not from his own province helping him with the investigation… well, he would have told you to get the hell out of his room and let him sleep. And yet, here he was, walking away from Iris and Elysia to cover the ground that Cicero and Hector were missing. He hoped in ten years time he’d be able to look back at the situation with, yes a heavy heart it is tragic but at least be able to laugh at the absurdity. Right now, however? His face was set and his eyes looked at all that was lost with stony seriousness.
His mind was a whirl trying to make sense and logic to the needless destruction. Trees could be replanted, and homes rebuilt, but the lives could never be regained. All because… the Queen was in hiding. There was an irony to be had with this. The throne could have been Alehandros had he so desired it to be, and yet he made it clear should it fall to his hands it would be turned away. The Queen she had the throne, the crown, and yet with her hiding… it was the Antonis trees that burned. He didn’t blame her, necessarily. She did get attacked the night of her father’s funeral. But… well, the gods had a really funny way to bring the Antonis back into Athenian politics.
Walking around the house Alehandros smelled something before he even saw it. The stench of… melted, charred flesh. Dark eyes landed on two corpses. One, a goat who looked so black that Alehandros was sure even the starving people of the capital would not be feasting on its meat. The other…an unrecognizable human. There was a separation between nobility and commoners, which was incredibly evident in Athenia, but Alehandros knew that despite the difference in stature, they bled and felt pain the same way. The man would have been in agony, as the fire engulfed his every being. There was no escape, the torturous flame as it destroyed the man’s very being.
How cowardly it was to burn the forest and all that was in it. There was no honor, only… cruelty. And it only did angered Alehandros more knowing those that brought the flame later went home to their beds and families, sleeping a peaceful night and caring not for all that they took from innocents.
They really pissed off the wrong man.
“May you cross the river with peace,” Alehandros murmured before returning his attention back to the investigation. Eventually his path led back to Master Cicero and Captain Hector, who now had a child among them.
And what were the people doing, in the black and yellow?
Alehandros had stopped. Did the child see people in black and yellow? There was… only one house he could think of that matched those colors. But, it didn’t make sense. First, to wear their own colors in an attack was… egotistical at the best, idioitic at worse. But the Marikas and Antonis had very strong ties between them, of friendship and of marriage. It came with being the the eldest royal family in Athenia. Alehandros had shown nothing but loyalty to them… so to hear men in their colors were here didn’t sit well at all with the Lord.
The child had looked at Master Cicero with large, fear filled eyes and whispered only three words. “They burned… e-everything.”
“Enough.” Alehandros said, now approaching the group. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, Iris had told him. The Queen was hiding here. Everything logically pointed to arson. But to hear from a child’s own mouth that it was human hands that brought devastation to Aetaea was something else entirely. It left a cold anger in the Lord and a determination that he had thus far avoided.
“The child’s parents should be found.” His voice was quiet. He only hoped it was not the corpse that Alehandros had just discovered. Eyes flickered from the poor child back to the two men. “I’ll be returning to the capital. It seems there is much work to be done.”
Eyes went back down to the child. Alehandros wished to give him some sort of… encouraging words. Reassurances. Hades, even the hug that the women also so desperately needed. But there were no words that could be had that would soothe the people’s wounds; only time could do that. Time… and justice, which was exactly what Alehandros intended to do. He tore his gaze once more from the child, and with a polite nod to both men turned on his heel and left, a storm of fury and grief.
Elysia hugged Iris tighter, swallowing hard when Iris told her that human hands had started the blaze. She let tears flow but they were silent. There were no racking sobs accompanying them. Doing nothing to wipe them away, Elysia merely let them come as she finally pulled back from Iris and asked no more questions. Iris wouldn’t be able to answer why but Elysia could and she didn’t want to supply that answer. She was ashamed of it.
Her gaze found her husband’s slight form a ways off and she found that she couldn’t bear to look at him for long and so she turned her back. Hugging herself, she looked back at Iris and shrugged, offering a watery smile. “We rebuild,” was all she said to an unasked question. ‘We’ was a bit presumptuous but she’d grown up here, too. She did not love the forests in the same way Iris had. Elysia did not like to spend all day in the wilds but that didn’t mean an affection didn’t remain. This had been her home until she’d married Cicero.
There wasn’t much that Elysia even wanted to say and so she stood mostly silent, for once not making any mental notes. She was half expecting Cicero to come back at the end of all of this and inform her coldly that she would be leaving his house. She hoped he wouldn’t. But it might happen and Elysia was nothing if not a realist; if he did that, she would go with Iris for a time and decide from there what to do.
One thing she was certain of: her attempts to sway Elias one way or another were at a definite end. If she ever saw the man again, she assumed she might have to leave the room or risk concocting a plan to poison him. In fact, she mused as she tapped her lips while tears ran silently down her cheeks, that wasn’t a terrible idea. She’d pose it to Cicero later. If anyone knew how to carry off a successful murder, it was her husband. That was reassuring.
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Elysia hugged Iris tighter, swallowing hard when Iris told her that human hands had started the blaze. She let tears flow but they were silent. There were no racking sobs accompanying them. Doing nothing to wipe them away, Elysia merely let them come as she finally pulled back from Iris and asked no more questions. Iris wouldn’t be able to answer why but Elysia could and she didn’t want to supply that answer. She was ashamed of it.
Her gaze found her husband’s slight form a ways off and she found that she couldn’t bear to look at him for long and so she turned her back. Hugging herself, she looked back at Iris and shrugged, offering a watery smile. “We rebuild,” was all she said to an unasked question. ‘We’ was a bit presumptuous but she’d grown up here, too. She did not love the forests in the same way Iris had. Elysia did not like to spend all day in the wilds but that didn’t mean an affection didn’t remain. This had been her home until she’d married Cicero.
There wasn’t much that Elysia even wanted to say and so she stood mostly silent, for once not making any mental notes. She was half expecting Cicero to come back at the end of all of this and inform her coldly that she would be leaving his house. She hoped he wouldn’t. But it might happen and Elysia was nothing if not a realist; if he did that, she would go with Iris for a time and decide from there what to do.
One thing she was certain of: her attempts to sway Elias one way or another were at a definite end. If she ever saw the man again, she assumed she might have to leave the room or risk concocting a plan to poison him. In fact, she mused as she tapped her lips while tears ran silently down her cheeks, that wasn’t a terrible idea. She’d pose it to Cicero later. If anyone knew how to carry off a successful murder, it was her husband. That was reassuring.
Elysia hugged Iris tighter, swallowing hard when Iris told her that human hands had started the blaze. She let tears flow but they were silent. There were no racking sobs accompanying them. Doing nothing to wipe them away, Elysia merely let them come as she finally pulled back from Iris and asked no more questions. Iris wouldn’t be able to answer why but Elysia could and she didn’t want to supply that answer. She was ashamed of it.
Her gaze found her husband’s slight form a ways off and she found that she couldn’t bear to look at him for long and so she turned her back. Hugging herself, she looked back at Iris and shrugged, offering a watery smile. “We rebuild,” was all she said to an unasked question. ‘We’ was a bit presumptuous but she’d grown up here, too. She did not love the forests in the same way Iris had. Elysia did not like to spend all day in the wilds but that didn’t mean an affection didn’t remain. This had been her home until she’d married Cicero.
There wasn’t much that Elysia even wanted to say and so she stood mostly silent, for once not making any mental notes. She was half expecting Cicero to come back at the end of all of this and inform her coldly that she would be leaving his house. She hoped he wouldn’t. But it might happen and Elysia was nothing if not a realist; if he did that, she would go with Iris for a time and decide from there what to do.
One thing she was certain of: her attempts to sway Elias one way or another were at a definite end. If she ever saw the man again, she assumed she might have to leave the room or risk concocting a plan to poison him. In fact, she mused as she tapped her lips while tears ran silently down her cheeks, that wasn’t a terrible idea. She’d pose it to Cicero later. If anyone knew how to carry off a successful murder, it was her husband. That was reassuring.
The child spoke some interesting words, but Cicero did not think he had much more to say, and when the Lord Alehandros drew near enough to hear the tail end of the child’s account, the master informed simply gave a nod to acknowledge the barked out ‘Enough’ that came from the Antonis man. He’d gotten as much as he needed out of the boy anyway.
“As you wish, my lord”
His expression remained impassive when the Antonis Lord spoke of finding the child’s parents, though his thoughts followed a similar path. Who knew if they were even alive? That was not his role in this though, and he lifted a brow in the direction of the soldier from Arcana. “Boy likes you. Perhaps you might be able to reunite him with his family?” It was phrased as a question, but Cicero didn’t wait for an answer before he’d turned and fallen into step beside the Antonis Lord. It was hardly his place and yet the spymaster thought it prudent just to suggest to the man that he kept whatever he had learned here today to himself. It was much easier, he remarked quietly as the pair walked back through the scorched forests, to catch a rat if it had not got wind that you were coming.
Cicero watched the lord leave and sighed. The man was clearly angered and saddened and whilst a fairly common emotional response to such a situation, it was hardly helpful to his cause. Decisions driven by such motivations were not often the right ones, and he hoped the Antonis Lord would not sour the milk before its time. People, in all their unpredictable, fickle and idiotic if well-intentioned ways were the bain of his professional life.
Pressing his lips together, Cicero turned on his heel and searched out his wife where she stood with her cousin by the ruined manor. Unpredicatable, fickle, idiotic if well-intentioned. He was sure some, if not all, of those labels, could also be applied to the woman, to what degree remained to be seen. But not here, not now. The ruins of Aetaea had told him as much as they needed to, and now he needed to be back in the city.
With long strides that carried him quickly to the side of his wife, Cicero made no apology for interrupting their conversation, cutting right across to address Lady Iris. “Are you well enough to ride, my Lady? We can break the journey if required but my time would be better spent finding out what I can in the capital now. I wouldn't suggest you return to where your company is lest some might follow.”
His words were brisk and matter of fact and Cicero was relieved that they were not met with any protest. The premise of the long rude back to the city was hardly appealing, but Cicero had those he would like to speak to before rumours and whispers took hold and coloured people’s thoughts. A sharp nod to the hired sword and the spymaster led the women back to where the horses stood tethered and restive. They too would be glad to depart these lands and the traces of death and destruction that were all that remained.
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The child spoke some interesting words, but Cicero did not think he had much more to say, and when the Lord Alehandros drew near enough to hear the tail end of the child’s account, the master informed simply gave a nod to acknowledge the barked out ‘Enough’ that came from the Antonis man. He’d gotten as much as he needed out of the boy anyway.
“As you wish, my lord”
His expression remained impassive when the Antonis Lord spoke of finding the child’s parents, though his thoughts followed a similar path. Who knew if they were even alive? That was not his role in this though, and he lifted a brow in the direction of the soldier from Arcana. “Boy likes you. Perhaps you might be able to reunite him with his family?” It was phrased as a question, but Cicero didn’t wait for an answer before he’d turned and fallen into step beside the Antonis Lord. It was hardly his place and yet the spymaster thought it prudent just to suggest to the man that he kept whatever he had learned here today to himself. It was much easier, he remarked quietly as the pair walked back through the scorched forests, to catch a rat if it had not got wind that you were coming.
Cicero watched the lord leave and sighed. The man was clearly angered and saddened and whilst a fairly common emotional response to such a situation, it was hardly helpful to his cause. Decisions driven by such motivations were not often the right ones, and he hoped the Antonis Lord would not sour the milk before its time. People, in all their unpredictable, fickle and idiotic if well-intentioned ways were the bain of his professional life.
Pressing his lips together, Cicero turned on his heel and searched out his wife where she stood with her cousin by the ruined manor. Unpredicatable, fickle, idiotic if well-intentioned. He was sure some, if not all, of those labels, could also be applied to the woman, to what degree remained to be seen. But not here, not now. The ruins of Aetaea had told him as much as they needed to, and now he needed to be back in the city.
With long strides that carried him quickly to the side of his wife, Cicero made no apology for interrupting their conversation, cutting right across to address Lady Iris. “Are you well enough to ride, my Lady? We can break the journey if required but my time would be better spent finding out what I can in the capital now. I wouldn't suggest you return to where your company is lest some might follow.”
His words were brisk and matter of fact and Cicero was relieved that they were not met with any protest. The premise of the long rude back to the city was hardly appealing, but Cicero had those he would like to speak to before rumours and whispers took hold and coloured people’s thoughts. A sharp nod to the hired sword and the spymaster led the women back to where the horses stood tethered and restive. They too would be glad to depart these lands and the traces of death and destruction that were all that remained.
The child spoke some interesting words, but Cicero did not think he had much more to say, and when the Lord Alehandros drew near enough to hear the tail end of the child’s account, the master informed simply gave a nod to acknowledge the barked out ‘Enough’ that came from the Antonis man. He’d gotten as much as he needed out of the boy anyway.
“As you wish, my lord”
His expression remained impassive when the Antonis Lord spoke of finding the child’s parents, though his thoughts followed a similar path. Who knew if they were even alive? That was not his role in this though, and he lifted a brow in the direction of the soldier from Arcana. “Boy likes you. Perhaps you might be able to reunite him with his family?” It was phrased as a question, but Cicero didn’t wait for an answer before he’d turned and fallen into step beside the Antonis Lord. It was hardly his place and yet the spymaster thought it prudent just to suggest to the man that he kept whatever he had learned here today to himself. It was much easier, he remarked quietly as the pair walked back through the scorched forests, to catch a rat if it had not got wind that you were coming.
Cicero watched the lord leave and sighed. The man was clearly angered and saddened and whilst a fairly common emotional response to such a situation, it was hardly helpful to his cause. Decisions driven by such motivations were not often the right ones, and he hoped the Antonis Lord would not sour the milk before its time. People, in all their unpredictable, fickle and idiotic if well-intentioned ways were the bain of his professional life.
Pressing his lips together, Cicero turned on his heel and searched out his wife where she stood with her cousin by the ruined manor. Unpredicatable, fickle, idiotic if well-intentioned. He was sure some, if not all, of those labels, could also be applied to the woman, to what degree remained to be seen. But not here, not now. The ruins of Aetaea had told him as much as they needed to, and now he needed to be back in the city.
With long strides that carried him quickly to the side of his wife, Cicero made no apology for interrupting their conversation, cutting right across to address Lady Iris. “Are you well enough to ride, my Lady? We can break the journey if required but my time would be better spent finding out what I can in the capital now. I wouldn't suggest you return to where your company is lest some might follow.”
His words were brisk and matter of fact and Cicero was relieved that they were not met with any protest. The premise of the long rude back to the city was hardly appealing, but Cicero had those he would like to speak to before rumours and whispers took hold and coloured people’s thoughts. A sharp nod to the hired sword and the spymaster led the women back to where the horses stood tethered and restive. They too would be glad to depart these lands and the traces of death and destruction that were all that remained.